


Nymph-O Positive

by sarahcakes613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: A vampire goes to a sugar shack and meets a nymph.Seriously, that's it.
Relationships: Gregor Clegane/"Fat" Walda Frey
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	Nymph-O Positive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jillypups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jillypups/gifts).



> "And I want Gregor to be the vampire and Walda to be the sugar shack nymph" - Jil, probably almost immediately regretting her words.
> 
> I canada beleaf I wrote this.

**Quebec, 1670**

Gregor gasps as he finally spots the grove of trees in the distance. He’ll be safe if he can just make it to the cover of the woods. His heart feels like it’s going to burst in his chest, and he looks behind to see the men from his company are gaining on him. A burst of energy propels him forward, but a shot rings out and he sinks to one knee as a musket ball embeds itself in his thigh.

He grunts and forces himself up. He’s mere feet from safety but every step is flaming agony and he sinks down again, darkness drawing in from the periphery of his vision.

He falls forward, one arm outstretched ahead of him. His fingers brush against the bark of a tree right on the edge of the grove, but he doesn’t register the rough feeling against his skin as he slides into oblivion.

_She yawns, stretching her many limbs, leaves rustling as she rouses herself. She looks down and sees a man at her feet. She can sense his aura dimming, his lifeforce seeping out of him from the red hole in his leg. She considers him. There is nothing special about him or his kind and she has no reason to take his problems as her own, except for the fact that his arm is extended into her land, hand open and begging. She sighs and the wind ruffles his hair._

_She drags him further into her grove and draws his head into her lap. His light is fading, and she doesn’t have a lot of time. With one splintered nail she pierces herself, sweet clear liquid oozing out. She holds her limb over his mouth as the sap drips out of her and into his mouth._

**Ottawa Valley, 2010**

When Gregor first spots her through the trees, he thinks it’s a vision, something sent from the heavens to bless him for…only, he can’t think of any reason he would be so blessed.

She’s beautiful, all tawny brown curves and wearing a gown of gossamer-bound leaves. She leans over to check the taps on a tree and Gregor nearly falls over as he follows the round line of her body with his eyes.

Gregor has spent most of his 400 years in the nature of the Canadian Shield and he knows how to move with the stealth and speed of a deer. He glides over the piles of melting snow and soft earth towards her, his gums itching as his fangs ache to drop.

He wraps a hand around the tubing that hangs between the trees, feeling the way the cool sap runs through the piping to the large vats.

The gossamer vision stands suddenly and turns around.

“Oh!” She gasps, her eyes going wide when she sees Gregor standing in front of her.

He reaches up quickly to remove his hat, clutching it in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says politely. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Gregor.”

She smiles beatifically at him, her skin crinkling around her eyes like bark.

“It’s quite alright, Gregor.” she says. “I’m Walda. I don’t mind the surprise; I just don’t see many people back here.”

“I – I jus’ wanted something to eat.” Gregor gestures at the tubing that runs from tree to tree.

Walda looks at him carefully and he can feel her inner sight piercing his glamour.

“Ah,” she says delicately.

He toes at the ground sheepishly. “I wasn’t gonna take a lot,” he says. “Jus’ enough to get me til I could get into the city. I usually buy the barrels at Costco.”

She smiles again and takes one of his large hands between hers. She leads him through the copse of trees to a section of bush that hasn’t been tapped.

She gestures to some trees that have a shimmering X on them, indicating they are her root trees. “As long as it isn’t tapped or bearing my safety mark, you can feed from any of the trees here.”

His stomach rumbles at that moment and she laughs. It sounds like leaves rustling underfoot. Gregor runs his hand over a tree and feels the sap pooling within. It’s been a century or more since he’s fed in front of another person but he’s so hungry he’s not sure he can wait.

He finally opens his mouth and lets his fangs drop. He grips the thick branch he’s chosen and brings his mouth in close. His eyes flutter shut as his fangs pierce the bark and thin syrupy sap flows into his mouth. He swallows eagerly, sucking hard at the branch, but trying to be mindful of not draining the tree completely.

Appetite temporarily sated; he pulls back. “Thank you,” he mumbles to his feet, not wanting Walda to see his face all messy. He licks his lips, clearing away the droplets of sugar that have crystallized in the cold air.

Walda’s eyes sparkle and her skin glows like – like it’s her sap he’s just consumed. His eyes widen and he blushes furiously. Walda leans up and kisses him gently on the cheek, the graze like leaves brushing against a window.

“It was my pleasure.” She whispers in his ear.


End file.
